Blood Rush
by HeartEyes4Mariska
Summary: An alternate ending two-shot fic to Season 11's episode "Shadow" in which Elliot is forced to deal with Liv's death, rather than being involved in the plan that is set up against Anne Gillette. E/O pairing.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I have always thought that Season 11's "Shadow" would have had a much more interesting ending if Elliot had been kept out of the loop of what was happening after Liv decided not to drop the case. So I wrote the alternate ending, as I saw it in my head, if El had to face Liv's 'death.' It's only going to be a two-shot. Title may change. Reviews always welcome. Pairing is E/O.**

 **Spoilers: Major spoilers for Spooked, Shadow**

 **Rating: M for graphic sexual content**

 **Disclaimer: The characters belong to Dick Wolf, not myself. No copyright infringement intended, and no money is being made.**

 _ **BLOOD RUSH**_

"You goin' somewhere?" Elliot asked, joining Liv in the locker room.

"I've just got a few errands to run," she lied.

"Yeah?" He pulled a bullet-proof vest from her duffel. "Your, uh, dry cleaner have, uh . . . anger issues? Liv, don't do this," he insisted gently, trying to catch her eyes from the seat he'd taken on the bench.

Liv's anger was high. She was sexy when she had an axe to grind, but he didn't want to encourage her.

"I'm not going to let that bitch scare me off," she told him.

"Maybe you should," El suggested. "I sent my family away."

"They're civilians," Liv said, matter-of-factly, as if that settled everything. "I've got a job to do."

"Ash Ramsey put you up to this?" he asked as she slammed her locker shut, trying and failing to hide the territoriality in his voice.

"No. It was my idea," Liv told him, getting impatient.

He believed her. "Wait a minute - wait a minute," El stopped her from going out the door, "And you were just gonna deal me out?"

"I'm trying to protect you from the fallout," she defended.

"While you and Sir GQ just cowboy it up, huh?"

Liv narrowed her gaze. "You have a problem with Ash?"

"No," El lied. "But you're _my_ partner. If anybody has your back it should be me." Any effort he'd hoped to make in disguising the possessiveness in his voice had failed, miserably.

"El, it's fine. I can handle Anne Gillette. You handle the Captain."

With no more reasons to keep her from going out the door, Elliot heaved a deep sigh, rubbing a hand nervously against the back of his neck. He was jealous, and it wounded him to admit it. Since the start of the Gillette case, Liv had been working with Ashok Ramsey, and Stabler had been fumbling and angry like a high school boy with a crush.

It wasn't the first time he had been jealous, and it likely would not be the last. As a married man, he walked a fine line when it came to Olivia, and how he interacted with the men around her. But unlike with Agent Porter, around whom Elliot had felt confident even after Porter had saved Liv's life - with Ramsey, Elliot felt unsure, unsteady.

And he sure as hell didn't trust Ramsey to keep Liv safe. That was a problem.

Pushing himself to his feet from the bench, El knew he had to try and convince the captain to play this out - and to let him help.

"Cap'n - " Elliot started and came through the office door all at once.

"Elliot." Cragen's tone was firm and fatherly. "This is not open to debate."

"But Captain," El tried again, "I need - "

"What you need is to go see your family," Cragen informed him. "Things are handled here."

"Olivia's not going to let this one go. You know that." Elliot put his hands on his hips.

"We can handle that too," the Captain assured him.

"No way can Ramsey keep the both of them safe." El hoped Cragen couldn't see right through his concern to his jealousy.

"Elliot," Cragen sighed, "go home. That's an order. Gillette will be handled, and so will Olivia, if need be."

The two men locked eyes and El knew arguing would be pointless. He left the office, unable to shake his concern as he shut the door with another sigh.

 _eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo_

Stabler had turned Kathy down at her suggestion he drive all the way back to Jersey and sleep at his sister-in-law's. He'd gone home instead, to what he knew would be a sleepless night, tossing and turning in the empty bed.

He knew something was wrong. Liv had been his partner for more than a decade - they could both feel it when things were off. Which partially accounted for his earlier frustration at her stubbornness. Why couldn't she feel the danger he did?

Elliot's blood rushed. His pulse was wild, painful in his chest, nearly making him get up to pace the floor. He tossed to see the clock. It was heading for 3AM. He turned, trying to calm his breathing. Suddenly his cell phone rang, and El had to bite his lip to keep from screaming aloud.

"Stabler," he panted.

"Sorry to wake you." It was Cragen, not Liv like he'd been hoping, and that made it infinitely worse.

"You didn't." El was up without even thinking about it, searching for clothes. "What happened? Where do you need me?" He shot off questions as he shrugged into a shirt.

"Elliot." Cragen's voice was sombre, but demanding. It made El's blood run cold.

He saw visions of hospitals, of bullet wounds and surgery. "How bad?" he asked, his voice thick. "Tell me."

"Liv's gone," Cragen replied.

Elliot's world went black.

 _eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo_

An earthquake of shock and grief rocked Elliot from crown to toes. When he did take a breath, he bolted for the half-bath in the Master, crashing against the toilet as he went to his knees. He heaved until nothing was left, until his diaphragm ached.

Finally, El dropped back onto his ass on the cold tile floor. His face was streaked with tears - he had been sobbing without making a sound. His stomach was cramped, his temples pounding. Each time he opened his mouth expecting a cry of grief to escape, nothing came out.

There was no hope of even thinking straight. In one moment he wanted to hurt physically - wanted someone to knock him the fuck out, so he didn't have to feel. The next, he wanted to scream, to hit someone else, taking out his anger and brokenness on them.

Losing track of time, Elliot remained in the bathroom for he didn't know how long, his head against the tile wall, face blank with shock. Every now and then, his face would contort with anguish, his empty stomach would heave. The tears rolled and dripped - he let them.

Hours later, when he slipped into a numb, quiet place, El finally managed to get up. He finished getting dressed and retrieved the phone from where he'd dropped it on the floor. It was almost 5:30AM when he left the house.

He had to see her.

 _eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo_

El wasn't watching where where he was going when he walked into the morgue - he functioned only in a perpetual daze, now. When someone stopped him by pressing both hands to his shoulders, he blinked slowly and looked at them.

"Elliot," said Fin Tutuola, "you're not goin' in there."

"I am," El argued. "Let me go."

"Listen. Cragen put me here. He knew you were comin'. You can't see her."

Elliot's rage bloomed anew. " _Can't_ see her?!" he growled through gritted teeth, "The **_hell_** you say! I'm going in there, Fin. I'm only gonna warn you once."

"Stabler, c'mon man . . . " Fin tried again, but Elliot was far beyond reasoning. He responded with his fists, and the two men hit the floor in a scuffle. On any other day, the two men would have been more equally matched, but Elliot was filled with equal parts rage and grief. His movements were sloppy, desperate.

"Stabler!" Fin shouted, subduing him without having to return blows. "Listen. You can't see her. It won't help, you gotta believe me. It's better this way - you don't wanna see her like that."

An audible sob escaped El then, causing both men to freeze mid-squabble. Fin squeezed his coworker's forearm. "I know, man. I know. It's okay." He didn't even come at Elliot for hitting him, just made sure the rage had passed, then got up and helped El up from the floor.

"You should talk to Cragen," Fin told him.

El met his eyes finally, embarrassed and hollow. "He can come find me," he replied.

"Where?" Fin asked as El headed out, but he didn't get an answer.

 _eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo_

"Are you drunk, detective?"

It was Cragen. He came quietly up behind Elliot where he sat at the bar.

"I'm very drunk," El mumbled. "Plastered, even. I may never sober up again."

Cragen slid onto the stool next to him. "How do you think that'll go over with your wife and kids?"

El shrugged. "Haven't really thought about it."

"Maybe you should start thinkin about it. Eventually you'll have to go home."

He looked at his CO blearily. "You won't let me see her," he said flatly.

"For good reason."

"No reason could ever be good enough! Or right!" El hissed.

"D'you think that's what Liv would have wanted? For that to be the last time you saw her?"

Talking about Olivia in the past-tense was making El nauseous. For a moment in his drunken stupor, he considered the very real possibility of turning his head and throwing up on his captain's shoes. He wanted to open his mouth and ask what happened, but was surprised to find himself afraid. So for the moment he said nothing.

When he did speak, what came out was, "I want to kill him."

"Yeah, well, lucky for Ramsey and for me, he's dead too."

Elliot sighed with frustration. "I tried to tell you - "

"This way or another way, it wasn't something you coulda stopped."

As drunk as he was, El still respected his captain enough not to respond with rage. "Now we'll never know, will we?"

"You should go home," Cragen pushed again. When El just ignored him, Cragen slid from his seat with a final sigh. "Service is in a couple'a days. Clean yourself up. She deserves better."

But Elliot knew he wasn't going home. He had even less interest in going home than he had in sobering up, and was thankfully too drunk to examine what that truly meant. He checked into a crap hotel instead, managing some fitful sleep when exhaustion took over - broken only by guttural sobs that escaped him in the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I AM SO SO SO SORRY that it took so long to get the second chapter finished! I won't go into any great detail, but in the time I've been away I had to deal with 1) one of my cats having to be put to sleep, 2) adopting a new cat who was barely a year old 3) moving into a new place 4) starting my own business and 5) my own health issues. But I refused to let it go and leave you all hanging! So here it is. Reviews always welcome. Pairing is E/O.**

 **Spoilers: Major spoilers for Shadow, minor spoilers for seasons 1/2**

 **Rating: M/MA for graphic sexual content**

 **Disclaimer: The characters belong to Dick Wolf, not myself. No copyright infringement intended, and no money is being made.**

 ***II***

Elliot managed to surprise even himself by appearing at Olivia's service sober, clean, and in formal uniform. He hovered alone in the back of the room while Kathy and all of the kids - save for Eli - sat near Cragen.

A sea of blue, as Liv's only real family had come out to honor and grieve her. El took it all in - the songs, the speeches, the kind words - as though he was in a perpetual nightmare. There was no job, no rage, no revenge all-consuming enough for him to drain his numbness into.

This was the probability that he had never planned for. Eleven years, and all the near-misses they'd had, and Elliot, being the pretentious bastard that he was, had simply taken for granted that he would be there to circumvent this outcome. Whether that had meant sacrificing himself, a vic, or putting someone else down was just a matter of details.

But he had never considered this - or any ending that let Olivia die, any result that meant she wouldn't be there, when he walked into the one-six. He didn't understand how to be in this ending, other than broken. Even his mixed-up dreams accused him of being a coward.

He thought there would be more time.

Time for Eli to grow older, for his unsteady marriage to Kathy to finally wind down. Time that Elliot would take to tell Liv that she had owned his heart for a lifetime wholly separate from the life he had lived with his wife.

When the service was over, El hung back still, watching people file out slowly. No one tried to talk to him or questioned his waiting; other than Cragen, the whole force and his family had been avoiding him like the fabled bear with a thorn in its paw.

Like a man who had lost his wife.

Soon, the room was empty, and he stepped out of the shadows. He had to see her.

Crossing to the center of the rows of seats, El started toward the front of the room, like a man wading through poured cement. he had given it as much thought as his state of disbelief had allowed, and had not been surprised to find himself too weak to let her go. Whatever he might find, it was still Olivia, and that was everything that mattered.

Breathing shallow, temples pounding, he faced her coffin. It was imagery he couldn't even translate - written in a language foreign and terrifying. A wave of nausea he was getting accustomed to filled his middle. There was too much to say.

"Liv . . . " he said, but his voice was hoarse, weak. Clearing his throat softly, he tried again: "Liv. Goddammit," his eyes filled with tears, "tell me what I'm supposed to do."

El took a deep, trembling breath. His hands were cold as he placed one on the lid of the casket. "I can't go home . . . I - I can't go back to work. Everything is wrong without you, Liv. The coffee, the cases, the squad . . . "

He trailed off, balling a fist, feeling ridiculous and helpless. It was turning out that he was no better at this now than he had been . . . before. The coward in him had let eleven years pass as he enjoyed the best of both worlds. El had gotten to be a father, a husband, and Liv's partner. He had a home he could go to, great kids and a best friend he worked with.

But what had he really done to deserve it? What had Liv really gotten out of it?

 _Not what she deserved_ , he thought.

The tears started to roll in earnest, and Elliot's sniffle seemed huge in the silent room. "Aww, God, Liv - I fucked up." El scrubbed his hand across his face, angry at his own grief, more angry at all the opportunities he had thrown away. "Why didn't you listen to me? Christ, Benson, why'd ya have to be so stubborn?! I knew something was wrong . . . if you had just let me help . . . "

His voice was breaking again. He knew what he had really come to say, but the finality of it was keeping the words frozen in his chest. Elliot imagined her as she had been: young and passionate, throwing up over the hard cases. He remembered her sharpening her skills - becoming the best there was with victims. Her dark eyes, the low timbre of her voice.

His stomach knotted from emptiness. "Liv - I . . . loved you. I still love you."

It wasn't professed that loudly, but it seemed to take up the entire room with its enormity.

He should have told her. He knew it - also knew that he would live the rest of his years loathing himself for it. El wanted to get this over with now, so he could get back to his crap hotel room and get drunk.

He hooked his fingertips into the seam of the casket and took the deepest of breaths, readying himself for whatever he might see. Eyes closed, he heard the creak of the hinge shifting.

"Elliot."

He knew, then, that he had truly lost it and was never getting it back. Living with her memory was one thing, but hearing her voice? _Might as well put in my papers_ , he told himself.

Then there was a footstep from behind him and time seemed to stop. He let go of the casket lid and sucked in all the air that had rushed from his lungs. There was the sound of the casket lid, settling back into place, the sound of his shallow breathing. He was afraid to turn around. He was more afraid to stay still. The world was tipping under him.

When he finally turned, she had stepped much closer. Elliot Stabler could count on one hand the number of times in his adult life that he had voluntarily gone to his knees, including the day he proposed to Kathy.

Now he could count one more. El slowly let his legs go out from under him, until he was on both knees in front of Olivia - living and breathing. His head dropped, forehead pressed against her lower belly, as he wrapped his arms around her, sliding his hands flat against the small of her back.

Elliot wept. He could neither form words, nor catch his breath, but was aware of Liv threading her fingers through his hair in an effort to soothe him.

After a few moments, Liv helped him back to his feet. He noticed that her eyes were also red-rimmed, her cheeks tear-streaked. "El," she said softly, "I'm so sorry."

"Olivia," he said weakly. His breathing was still ragged as he put his palm to her cheek, reassuring himself.

"It all happened so fast, and we had to play it all the way through to convince Anne, I - "

He moved his hand so that a thumb covered her lips, stopping her. "Shh," he breathed. "Doesn't matter."

Her eyes were sorrowful. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You're here. You're okay. That's all I want. Forget I was mad - forget I was ever mad."

"You mean all the times in eleven years?" Liv raised an eyebrow and laughed through a sniffle, succeeding in getting El to chuckle.

He wondered where she'd been hiding, How long she'd been standing there, listening. Elliot wondered how he could have gone so many years not acknowledging how whole Liv made him feel. He was gazing at her face like a blind man just gifted his sight back.

"Anne's in custody," Liv told him. "Cragen says I have to go home - at least until she's processed." She was looking anywhere except at Elliot's intense gaze. When she realized her hands were still in his, she shrugged out of them gently.

"Liv - "

"El," she interjected. "El. I . . . missed you," she admittedly sheepishly.

"Olivia, can I take you home?"

 _eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo_

El pulled up in front of Liv's building. The two detectives sat for long minutes in a heavy silence.

"I'm so tired," Liv finally sighed. Her head fell back against the the seat rest. "Hiding from perps is way more tiring than chasing them."

Not wanting to downplay anything, Elliot responded hollowly, "I haven't slept in almost four days."

Liv looked at him sharply, assessing whether he was guilting her. "I never meant to put you through . . . this." She gestured weakly, hoping he understood.

Elliot cleared his throat. "Liv - how long were you standing behind me earlier?"

Olivia shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Not too long."

"Long enough to hear what I had to say to you?" He didn't have to look at her to know the answer.

"Look, El, it's okay. We've been partners a long time - we've been through a lot together. No partner should have to go through what you just did."

He could already see her, nervous and trying to pull away as fast as possible from confrontation. But for once, El wasn't worried. There was nothing that could match the hell he had gone through, so he let her ramble.

"I'm not looking for an apology, Liv. You did what you had to do - I put myself in the way, as usual. I shouldn't be so hard-headed."

She chuckled in disbelief at his self-awareness. "Geez - I shoulda' done this years ago, might've saved myself and Kathy some trouble."

He knew she was purposely inserting Kathy's name into the moment, expecting it to sober him, but there was no going back. "Olivia . . . " he took a deep breath, "I meant what I said back there. Every word. I love you. I have for years."

His words hung between them, and the sound of her heavy breathing was cacophonous.

Her response came cautiously, as she fumbled: "Well, Elliot - " Liv smacked her hands against her thighs, "I, I love you too . . . "

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! I mean, we've been partners for a lotta years - "

"You said that," El smiled.

He saw her eyes change, then. Avoiding confrontation hadn't worked - here came the shove. "Jesus, Elliot. We're both tired. What is it you want from me? What more are you getting at?"

"Let me walk you up, Liv."

There was no protest left in either of them, so he walked her to her apartment. When she let herself in, she crossed the floor without bothering to shut the door behind her. Elliot hovered in the doorway, still getting his full of simply looking at her, after being convinced he'd never have the chance again.

"I'm so tired," she reiterated, turning back to her partner.

"I thought I'd lost you. And I thought it was my fault." El's voice was thick, grabbing her attention in a way she couldn't put off any longer. "You have no idea how empty I was." Slowly, Elliot began to close the distance between them, until they were face to face one more time.

Her need to run was palpable, it was a throb between them. "You have your kids, El. You weren't alone. You have a wife."

Elliot was calm, despite how hard she was trying to drag Kathy into this. "You mean the wife I couldn't bring myself to go home to during all this?"

"But why?!" Liv demanded, sounding damn near stamping her foot like one of his daughters.

Their voices were still hushed, like every furtive conversation at their desks had ever been - as though they were comparing notes rather than preparing to cross a line they had spent eleven years silently and carefully drawing.

"Because all I wanted, the _only_ goddamn thing I wanted, was _you_ ," Elliot confessed. And then he was done with the silences, the hesitation and talking in circles. He kissed her with all the force of the last three and a half days - all of it. The drinking, the keening for her, the silence, the ache and terror from her being missing from him.

When it ended, they were both panting and off-guard. Elliot was hard as a rock and wanted to touch everything alive in her, wanted to fill her with where her life touched him. He was not a man who had ever extended himself to vulnerability with Olivia - on the contrary, had spent their years swallowing any frailties in the process of supposedly defending her honor.

Now every pump of his blood felt like exposure, and everything was too raw. They were both so exhausted. If they were going to burn this bridge, Elliot wanted them both awake and aware.

"You wanna get some sleep?" he asked her, drawing a laugh.

They went through the motions as though they had always done this: clothes were removed, covers pulled down, lights switched off. Not even chosen sides of the bed required a conversation. Elliot encircled Liv reverently, his lungs filling completely - a sensation he had given up as lost with her. Though she wasn't lost after all, his blood was still rushing. Like the light they'd switched off, the partners were asleep in a blink, their breathing deep and even.

 _eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo_

Hours had passed, when El awoke to the shift of Liv's weight in the bed. His eyes focused to find Liv's large brown ones peering at him in the light of the recently-risen moon.

"Hi," he whispered.

She didn't respond for so long that he'd decided she wasn't going to, when finally she said, "I love you, Elliot."

It was so quiet and unassuming, it washed over him, taking with it the darkness of his last days. The relief of it drew a grin across his face.

"You need more sleep," she said next, but he shook his head.

"Plenty of time for sleep. Later."

Liv placed her hand on El's chest. He resisted the urge to hold it, not wanting to be forceful. Her touch was tentative: tapping over his sparse chest hair, noting the feel of his skin, the change in his breathing as she trailed to his abs, then his hips.

"Are you sure about this, El?" she asked. The full weight of Kathy, his kids, his faith - all couched in this.

"More sure than I've been of anything," he reassured.

She kissed him. In the darkness, in her own room, in her own home. It was a privacy they had never shared before, not even on overnight stakeouts. There had always been the Captain, the squad, his wife over their shoulders. Years of imagining what her lips felt like, what her kiss was like when hungry and full - all culminating in the sleepy Manhattan hush. Elliot groaned and his mouth opened, taking in her tongue.

And then everything was alive - Liv, his skin, their lips, groins . . . maybe even the room, the dark, Elliot couldn't be certain. He was only certain that his empty places were filled to overflowing at her touch. His blood pounded in his ears. He could feel every one of his pulse points - a cacophony. _Don't move, Liv_ , he thought, convinced Olivia's weight was all that kept him from flying off the sheets.

Then his hips were rising to press into her. El was on fire, self-conscious like he was a virgin again, wild for Liv in a way no virgin could be.

Liv gasped, her hands pushing down hard on El's shoulders. The throb between her legs was closing in on absurdity. She shifted her weight again, covering Elliot more fully, rolling her hips so their pelvises were flush against each other.

"Jesus, Liv, Jesus," he bit out. _Lord, don`t let me come before I get inside her_ , he prayed.

Her dark eyes were wide open, mirroring what little light there was in the room. Olivia threw back her head and drew her legs up, pushing them into the mattress on either side of El`s ribs. She wasn`t quite sitting on him . . . but close enough.

Slowly, so slowly, she moaned his name. How he had made it this many years without touching her this way, he would never understand. As though Liv knew what he was thinking, she took him by the hand, bringing his fingers to the source of more proof he had never truly lost her. Her panties were soaked. He needed more. Drawing air in a hiss through his teeth, Elliot thrust the hand into her underwear, sliding fingers, spreading her open.

"Liv. Look at me," he demanded, seeing her shudder as his thumb rubbed her clit roughly. Their eyes met. "I love you," he told her, pushing his fingers lower. Entering her.

"Oh fuck. Oh God! Elliot . . . El, I love you so much," she whimpered. His fingers inside her felt safe in a way that no other lover, no lock, no gun or squad ever had. Liv bucked on them, impatient to be fucked by him any way she could.

El chuckled at her, finally feeling a sense of control, of power that had been missing in him when she was gone. Steadying her with his other hand against her midriff, he finger-fucked her eagerly. She was impossibly wet. It was very hot. It was unimaginably un-Catholic.

Liv tore off the tank top she was wearing, bringing her hands to her own breasts, fingers to her dusky nipples. El's head spun with sensory overload, already concerned that the bounce of her wet pussy on his fingers, hand atop his cock was going to end him.

Luckily, then she was coming: dropping forward, digging her nails into his pecs as her hips jerked. She was spasming around his soaked fingers, and making noises that were bliss to El's ears. He put his arms around her gently, delighted by her hot breath in his ear while she came back to earth.

When he spoke, his voice seemed smaller, naked with exhortation: "Liv. Please don't leave me like that, ever again."

Kisses were rained on his face, his forehead, eyelids, cheeks. " _Never_ ," Olivia whispered.

She granted his strangled erection freedom, taking the weight of it into her hand. Exploring his shape. Stroking him, she bit his earlobe and chuckled at the shift of power back to her. The want to taste him, even momentarily, won out over her want to fuck him speechless. El held his breath, unsure of himself, as the act wasn't really a part of his marriage's repertoire.

He cried out, but did not know what he cried. Her mouth was a white heat.

She hummed over him pleasantly, swallowing his taste, his own wetness. Shutting his eyes hard, he felt a flush of embarrassment as he knew he was never going to make it . . .

Olivia was gone again, and the breeze created by her quick shift raised goosebumps, hardened his nipples. He opened his eyes to find her next to him again, back to the mattress. Taking the cue, he rolled to his other side.

"Fuck me, Elliot," she asked quietly, "please."

Elliot Stabler cradled her as though he, himself, had rescued her from the grip of false death. It rendered Liv breathless - this tenderness, wholeness he had never shown her in their eleven years. He was the one who entered her body, but it was she who filled him up.

He had so much making up to do, for realizing all of this by almost losing her. But this was a not-so-bad start, he conceded. Elliot pulled her legs more securely around his hips and draped himself over her, taking in a nipple as he sunk ever-deeper into her.

Without any effort at all, they came together. While not nearly so mundane, it was like so many other moments of their partnership - like when Olivia was on the phone and he could order her hot dog without having to ask how much relish she wanted, or how they strolled Manhattan sidewalks sharing street-vendor lunches without interrupting either's pace. It was easy. It was symbiotic, and filling, the way only something you craved can be.

He hadn't lost her after all.

He would make sure that he never did again.

 **A/EN: I'm thinking of doing one more smut piece for E/O, and then I may take a slight break to write some Mulder/Scully fanfic (the only other Ship I've ever really written for, the only other Ship I will ever go down with). Any of you who also like the X-File fandom can feel free to follow me in that direction. I'll eventually probably flip back and forth between the two fandoms when things calm down. Hope you enjoyed. Thank you all for reading!**


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